


Capital and Labor

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: 4 Times+1, M/M, MICK IS THE KING OF SILENTLY PINING, Pining, Sexual Tension, UST, all the pining, fake dating au, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 13:45:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7363747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Mick and Len had to pretend to be together for the sake of a job, and one time they finally pulled their heads out of their asses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Capital and Labor

**Author's Note:**

> coldwave is severely lacking in fake dating-style aus. this is my attempt to remedy that. major thanks to believesinponds for betaing! enjoy!!

**1**

“Stay calm, and kiss me.”

Mick arches an eyebrow at Len and takes note of how close their bodies are, how nearly entangled their limbs are. Len had practically thrown himself at Mick, and this had been the result—pressed chest to chest and legs entwined and Mick’s back hitting the wall behind them hard. Mick’s hands had settled on Len’s hips and he flexes his fingers, a test.

“Mick, stay with me,” Len snaps. He knocks Mick upside the head gently. “Kiss me, dammit.”

Mick doesn’t bother asking questions. Instead, he growls and leans forward to obey Len’s command. He kisses Len hard, biting, wet; Len’s lips opens instantly and Mick licks his way into Len’s mouth, tasting every inch he can. He licks along Len’s teeth and relishes the feeling of Len’s tongue against his own.

Faintly, Mick can hear the sound of oncoming footsteps. He pulls Len closer on instinct and kisses him harder as the footsteps hurry past them. There’s voices accompanying the heavy footfalls, but none of the people rushing past pay any mind to Mick or Len.

When the voices and steps fade, Len pulls back. Mick admires the blush staining Len’s cheeks and the slick look of spit on Len’s lower lips.

“They were some hired muscle,” Len explains once he’s caught his breath. “Couldn’t let them see us.”

Mick nods sharply and doesn’t protest when Len steps out of his grip.

“C’mon, we still have a job to do,” Len says as he turns sharp on his heel and leads the way toward their goal. Mick follows without a word and tries to ignore the way his lips feel like they’re burning.

 

**2**

Mick tugs at the collar of his fancy dress shirt and tilts his head from side to side as though it’ll help the pressure that’s been steadily building in his head since the night began. He’s never liked these jobs, the ones where they have to dress up smart and fit in with a bunch of bigwigs. He likes the nights when it’s just him and Lenny sneaking into a vault or something; infiltrating balls and galas and whatever other events pompous-ass rich people throw themselves is not Mick’s idea of a good time.

Truth be told, he’s not even sure why they’re here. He knows there’s a plentiful stash of jewelry that belongs to the family hosting the event, but he also knows that’s locked away upstairs in a top-of-the-line vault hidden behind a family portrait. He knows him and Len could’ve snuck in through the third story window with some clever maneuvering, and could’ve been in and out in less than five minutes, easy. He knows Len likes to ham it up, sure, which is about the only reason Mick sees that he had to get crammed into this stupid suit and has to watch Len parade like a cat on the prowl.

“You’re pouting.”

Mick rounds on Len with a bored glare.

“Most people don’t pout at events like this, Mick.”

“I ain’t most people,” he retorts, blood boiling a little more at Len’s exasperated eye-roll. “Dunno why you got me in here, Lenny. Feel ridiculous.”

Len scoffs and reaches out to smooth the lapels of Mick’s suit jacket. “Stop it,” he scolds and sounds far too much like Mick’s distant memories of his mother. “It’s all part of my plan.”

This time it’s Mick’s turns to roll his eyes but he nods after. He always follows Len’s lead, no matter what, even when it’s dumb stuff like this. Even when Mick doesn’t exactly know what Len’s plan is.

“Sit up straight and put your arm around me, Mick,” Len hisses as he stands up a bit taller himself and moves more firmly into Mick’s space. Mick obeys without a thought; he lets his arm curl slowly around Len’s waist and haul him in that much closer. When Mick follows Len’s calculated stare, he sees a shapely young woman headed in their direction. “She’s the missus, she’s interested in a little rendezvous, with both of us.”

Mick tilts his head to look at Lenny and can’t help but snicker. “You really gonna get down n’dirty with me and some lady all for a couple of jewels?”

Len lightly smacks Mick’s arm. “Of course not. I’m going to slip something into her drink and while she’s passed out, we’ll take the haul and run.”

Mick is laughing to the point of tears by the time they’re joined by the woman.

 

**3**

“Lookin’ good, Lenny,” Mick remarks as his fingertips skim across Len’s ass. The denim is rough under his fingers and Mick’s hands burn with the urge to grope, squeeze, pull Len nice and close and grind against him. He doesn’t, though, and instead settles for simply being close. Mick licks his lips and takes in the view while he can. Len is pink and cranky in his lap and won’t be moving any time soon.

“I’m going to hide your precious little lighter and your gun when we get back to the ship, Mick.” Len pinches the sensitive skin of Mick’s neck with a sneer. “And don’t get used to this.”

Mick holds back his sigh—he’s been telling himself that since Hunter assigned this mission. From the moment Hunter and paired him and Len up and demanded they create a ‘sufficient distraction’ that would allow Sara to sneak into the backroom, Mick has been telling himself to enjoy it well he can but not to get attached.

”Fuck, someone’s coming, Sara isn’t finished,” and that’s all the warning Mick gets before Len is kissing him, hot and wet. Len cups the sides of Mick’s face and angles him just right for the best angle to deepen the kiss.

Mick gives in to the urge to cup Len’s ass with both hands, and tells himself it’s to put on a show for the unwitting person approaching them. He gets a bite to the lip for his actions, but whoever was coming towards them yelps and scurries off, and Mick smirks into the kiss triumphantly.

 

**4**

“Lisa can handle herself.”

“I know that.”

“Sure coulda fooled me, Lenny,” Mick observes even as he practically seals himself to Len’s back. He ignores the little voice in the back of his mind that tells him _this is getting ridiculous_ , or _this has gone on long enough_. Instead, he savors getting to touch Len like this even if it’s only for a little while. They’re pressed back to chest, with Mick’s hands gripping Len’s hips and Len’s arms are curled around Mick’s neck. They’re hot and sticky with sweat as they sway idly together in a far corner of the dancefloor.

“I just have to make sure she’s okay. Once he shows up and I know he’s not gonna try anything, we can go.”

Mick leans his head to inhale Len’s scent, less than subtle. Len doesn’t comment, though. “Don’t see why we had to get like this anyway,” and Mick is just as much referring to their pose as he is their garb. Len is in sinfully tight pants and a long sleeve shirt that clings to the muscles of his arms. Mick, in contrast, is wearing pants that hang low on his hips and a tight tank top that’s grimy with oil and who-knows-what-else.

“It’s—shit, he’s here.” Len doesn’t move out of Mick’s grasp but his whole attention turns to where Lisa is sitting at a table waiting for her date. Mick looks over too and watches as the kid walks up to Lisa, looking caught between swagger and nerves. It's amusing, Mick can admit, even when he’s more than a little distracted by Len’s body pressed up against him.

“Her date is _Ramon_?” Mick hisses as his lips curl in a grin. “You’re worried about _him_?”

Len elbows Mick in the side before continuing to dance, trying to keep up the appearance of being just another couple writhing against one another in the crowd. Len squints as though he could possibly get a better view of Lisa and Ramon from this far off, but Mick doesn’t comment. He just closes his eyes, a laugh still bubbling in his chest at Len’s audacity, and memorizes what Len’s skin feels like under his fingertips.

 

**+1**

“Y’know, Lenny,” Mick starts after a brief sigh, “this is really getting old.”

“Excuse me?” Len snaps with one eyebrow arching in artful irritation.

“This whole…” Mick gestures between them. “This bullshit,” he amends. He doesn’t quite meet Len’s eyes but he grips Len tighter. He’s not scared, exactly, and he’s reluctant to say he’s _nervous_. Moreso, he’s just unsure. This _whatever_ has been going on between him and Len for what feels like an eternity, and Mick can feel his breaking point approaching.

Back when shit like this—thrown together in some pretend little relationship—happened once in a blue moon, Mick was content to relish the moments and admire Len from afar. But the more frequently they end up together like this, the less Mick can keep his feelings in check. He’s never been one to talk about _feelings_ , and he’s certainly never been the kind of guy who falls in love, but…well, he can’t quite think of what else this must be. It feels like a fire burning in his chest whenever Len is near; it feels like an absolute inferno when he gets to touch Len, be close enough to taste him.

It’s torture, is what it is, and Mick knows he’s risking giving up these bittersweet moments by actually _addressing_ what’s been happening.

When Mick finally does meet Len’s eyes, Len looks at least appropriately ashamed. Mick, not for the first time and probably not for the last, is thankful that Len understands him well enough to know what _‘this bullshit’_ actually means.

“Didn’t think you noticed.”

“Y’calling me stupid?” Mick taunts with only a slight edge to his tone.

Len’s lips curl in a wry smile. “Never,” he assures. Which is kind of a lie, but Mick doesn’t call him on it. “Didn’t think you cared.”

That stings, but Mick ignores the pain. He growls, instead, and crowds Len tighter against the wall—a tough feat when they’re already crammed into a far too small closet, hiding. Their bodies are pressed together from chest to toes and if not for the rush of emotions pulsing through his veins and the way his heart is pounding a mile a minute with unease, Mick would probably be getting hard right now.

Mick searches Len’s gaze for something, anything, a sign that this isn’t all in Mick’s head. Len blinks back at him with a soft expression, a soft grin.

“Gonna finally stop fucking around and kiss me for real, then, Lenny?” Mick asks, already leaning in.

Rather than answering, Len obliges by meeting him halfway.


End file.
